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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335861">Her....</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Then There's These Two (A series of Hancock and SS Oneshots) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, I AM DRUNK, Rated M for non-graphic descriptions of sex, Very non-graphic, You've been warned, and this is entirely unbeta'd, but its pretty clear what he's talking about, its 2am, pure fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Always a Gentleman. When all's said and done, Hancock isn't exactly sure what to do with her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Then There's These Two (A series of Hancock and SS Oneshots) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Her....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It tickled. </p><p>The strips of blonde silk than ran unbound across his chest, sliding across the grooves of his skin as he breathed, pulling at nerves he didn’t know he still had. The loss of his shirt had seemed like such a damn good idea in the moment, blinded by the dark of drawn curtains and wandering hands. Hell, he hadn’t even noticed when it hit the floor. Or when it had slipped over the shoulders of the woman whose arms now wrapped around him, the ruffles he’d always preened to look halfway presentable smushed against his bare stomach, her head resting against what little muscle still clung to his sternum.</p><p>She couldn’t be comfortable like that. </p><p>He’d figured he’d known what he was getting into. The minute Piper had whispered into the ear of the little minx and those lashes had fluttered of so deviously in his direction. She’d asked for his help. Stolen his jacket. Walked away with what was left of his personality only to saunter back out with it draped around her like she owned the Rail and everyone in it. Chin held high. Heels clicking against the room you could hear a pin drop in. The prettiest damn prewar picture he could imagine sporting what could only mark her as his. A clear as day message, signed, sealed, and wrapped in his own duds. </p><p>He’d be a fool not to listen. </p><p>The hitch in her breath as her back hit the bar, the stutter in her frame that matched the clink of his caps against the splintered wood, spoke louder than Magnolia could belt whatever melody she’d have them both sink into. The hand that had wrapped around his arm was far warmer than he’d expect from the woman who seemed like she still hadn’t completely thawed from the freezer they’d shoved her in but it didn’t shake like most did. Didn’t pull slightly as they headed to the door. Didn’t clench down on his arm as they passed Ham without the low lights and gentle haze of the Rail to shield them. He’d smiled at it then, admiring the woman who had least had enough spine to not act ashamed of what she’d asked for. </p><p>He wasn’t sure what to think of it now. </p><p>He knew her well enough to know she didn’t play games. The woman whose voice he was so used to sounding out against the darkness of whatever camp they’d pulled together that night rarely said whatever she was thinking, spoke less truths than the kid with the sunglasses, a habit of storytelling that could make ol Kent’s eyes go wide in wonder, and could con a drifter out of their last cap, but it she didn’t toy with people. Didn’t play with her food. She gave whatever mercies she promised, made good on her threats, and didn’t make a habit of using those she saw as a friend. It was something he could respect. Hell it was something he admired. Beneath the stiff spine and clipped voice that could make a grown man shrink was a woman who took responsibility for the world around her and would fight to keep those she cared about safe. The woman who’d stared down Bobby in the middle of his own stockroom and demanded answers for the lie she’d drug her into. The woman who’d somehow still managed to talk her down and end a situation he expected to be a blood bath without firing a single bullet. Straightlaced till she wasn’t. Merciful till she needed to not be. About as much a prewar housewife as he was an actual elected official. Never expected her to saunter out with a bright red invitation draped across her shoulder. </p><p>Then again, most people get curious eventually. </p><p>He was used to being a experiment. A new experience for those who wanted to see just how much of polite society they could shake. He had the same damn scars as every other freak in this town but he was younger than most and his voice sounded near human in the dark. Couldn’t say it was the best damn song and dance, but his life as the gateway drug into just how much Goodneighbor had to offer had its perks. Most didn’t touch too much. He was fine with that. Fine with the hour of their time and the pat on their own back as they headed out the door after. Counted themselves as good folks for at least giving it at shot. The thought always made him snort. He could see em well enough during. Could see exactly what they though of what they’d done after, while picking what little they’d dropped off the floor and sprinting out without a word. He’d stopped caring about it long ago. </p><p>Leave it to the popsicle stay stuck against him. </p><p>She’d been handsier than most, enough he’d almost pushed her away and blamed the whole thing on whatever Charlie had replaced the beer in the bottles with. But her voice was a clean and crisp as ever as she spoke and he couldn’t find it in him to break the hold he’d found himself in. Couldn’t stop from shaking against her as his heart hammered in his chest and that voice that never broke its promises whispered so damn many in what was left of his ear. Couldn’t stop the stammer in his chest as his fingers grazed across scars he didn’t know she had and his mind whirled with questions far too intimate to ask. Couldn’t bring himself to look though. Even after her breathing slowed. Even after she’d risen and he braced himself for the slam of his well-worn door only to feel her plop back down on him sporting the bits of his clothing she hadn’t tried on beforehand, sighing as she stretched out against him like a cat before snoring so softly he barely heard her. </p><p>He wasn’t quite sure what to do with her now. </p><p>The couch in his study wasn’t exactly meant for two, the litter of mentat cases and jet inhalers strewn around them like candy on Halloween and he swore something he should not be showing in polite company was poking him in the back from between the couch cushions. He’d didn’t even realize his arms had wrapped around her shoulders until one hand had dropped from them to reach for whatever blasted buzz was closest and the snoring stopped suddenly. He froze, eyes wide as that head of soft hair shifted against him and ice blue looked up to blink at him sleepily. </p><p>She couldn’t see him. He knew for a fact she couldn’t. Hell he could barely pick out her features in what little light had slipped through the ancient planks of the wall and he could actually see in the dark. Let alone the fact the frames normally hiding that gaze from the rest of the damn world were somewhere around the desk they had made good use of. No. There was no way in hell she could. And yet. </p><p>The frigid stare he was so used to seeing her level at anyone who dare come within six feet was gone, wiped away with the glass he really hoped he hadn’t smashed in their scrambling. Trust and curiosity gazed up at him from behind those normally pinned back locks and the mouth so often curled up in a knowing smirk frowned slightly at him questioningly, the pout nearly innocent despite the way she was wrapped around him. </p><p>“John?” she breathed quietly, mumbling against the sleep in her eyes and for a moment he swore the word shot like lightening down his spine. The heat of her skin seemed to sink into his own as she lifted up just enough to stare where she had to be assuming his face was and he watched as his arms reached up on their own accord to pull her back against him, wrapping her in an embrace he was sure wasn’t his to give and his heart arched with something he couldn’t put a name on as his best friend tucked her head underneath his chin, sighing his name softly in a space he’d never head it before. </p><p>“Its alright Z. Go back to sleep” he muttered gently, the pressure in his chest easing as she settled once more against him, her breathing evening out against his own. </p><p>Her hair still tickled.</p>
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